


Forgive

by butterflybrigade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybrigade/pseuds/butterflybrigade
Summary: Derek is scared Stiles may be to vulnerable against the newest big bads in Beacon Hills, so he tries to give him the bite.(There is non-con elements, but they are not sexual, just a disclaimer)





	1. Chapter 1

There was trouble in Beacon Hills. Again. It seemed like danger had taken up permanent residence in the sleepy town, what with the constant disappearances and murders. Normal consisted of outrunning death and making sacrifices that shouldn’t have to be necessary. Survival was the main objective for those who knew about the supernatural inner workings of the town.

And Derek couldn’t take much more of it.

It wasn’t the threat of damage to himself, but rather to the ones in his pack. As an alpha he was a protector by nature and when harm came to any of the people he cared for he felt the weight of his guilt grow even heavier on his shoulders.

Scott could be a pill, but he was tough as nails and could usually get himself out of the messes he caused. Allison was skilled in battle and could impressively hold her own. Even though he hated to admit it, she had been a lifesaver many times to the others, so he tolerated her at the most. Jackson was a prick; entitled and needy but the more you got to know him Derek could sense that he was just lost and looking for connections. He couldn’t really blame Jackson for wanting that.

Lydia was smart and she was no longer self conscious about flaunting it. She knew how to control a room and gracefully evade threatening situations. Not to mention her supernatural sensitivity of being a banshee. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had bonded as a pack does and it gave the phantom feeling of what it was like to have a family around. They were fierce and fought with the same vigor that Derek had taught them. He trusted them to stand by his side and be the most durable of their pack.

And then there was Stiles.

The only person in Derek’s pack that was not a wolf, kanima, or banshee. He was purely, defenselessly human. The person that Derek cared most about protecting happened to be the most vulnerable of their group. Stiles was a magnet for trouble and he was always getting himself caught, beaten, or tortured. Derek’s heart broke each time he saved the reckless teen from certain doom right before the last moment. He took his fear out on Stiles in the form of anger and irritation because he didn’t know how else to get it into the idiot’s head that he couldn’t go rushing into danger like the rest of the pack could.

The two hadn’t been talking much since they… well…

Derek had kissed Stiles in the heat of an argument when emotions were high after saving the idiot like a damsel in distress. Derek tried to play the intimidation game with the bruised teen in order to get him to understand his weakness, but surprisingly instead of shying away, Stiles squared his shoulders and yelled back.

The fear of losing Stiles was still buzzing in Derek’s senses and he couldn’t find any other way of expressing his emotions other than grabbing the teen by his jacket and pulling him close for a kiss that could explain how much he cared. Stiles froze in shock at first but the roughness of the kiss turned to reciprocated passion in an instant. The moment seemed unreal as if it had taken place out of time, because the moment they stopped it was like everything had gone back to the way it was before. But for once, Stiles was speechless.

Derek huffed and let go, then told Stiles to get in the car so he could take him home. Half their fight had been about Derek’s frustration at Stiles not accepting the bite. In the alpha’s mind it was a simple solution to their problem, but to Stiles it was a nightmare. He said he wanted to keep his humanity which felt like an insult to Derek The bite was a gift, not a curse.

It was a time for firsts, because Derek broke the silence on their drive back into town. He told Stiles that the next time there was trouble in town he would have to actually consider the bite. He confessed that he refused to lose Stiles. The teen stared at him, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity, but Derek didn’t care. He was serious this time.

So now when new evil threatened to take over again, Derek was keeping his word.

People from the high school had been disappearing into thin air it seemed, and in the last place people saw them there were occultish symbols carved on the floor. Quietly, he had been watching Stiles to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into trouble. The teen had mostly been glued to ancient texts as well as some sketchy websites to get as much research as he could on the murders. Stiles’s internet addiction had proved to be the most useful at times like this.

But after tonight he won’t need constant surveillance. He will be strong enough to defend himself.

So Derek climbed in through Stiles’s window and sat waiting for the teen to come up to his room. Soon enough, he heard that rolling death trap of a vehicle park in the driveway. The sheriff was out for the evening covering another occult murder in a nearby town, so there would be no one home except Stiles.

He clambered up the stairs and came into his room like a whirlwind, tossing his backpack by his desk and nearly falling over in his chair because of how fast he sat down. Stiles had many admirable traits, but observance was not one of them.

Derek watched him look through papers and textbooks on his desk while he made highlights in certain parts. It was almost relaxing to see him do such mundane things. The way his brow scrunched when he was confused, or how he hummed and tapped his foot to concentrate better… for a moment Derek almost he hadn’t come. He wished Stiles could have had a normal _human_ teenage life. But if Derek didn’t give him the bite, that lifespan would be cut considerably short.

Derek recovered his resolve, and cleared his throat to finally get Stiles’s attention. Once the idiot finally noticed his presence, he jumped like a startled cat but not nearly as graceful. After toppling out of his chair with a yelp, he quickly picked himself up and attempted to casually lean on his desk to try and cover what he had been working on. Nervous energy oozed off him while he tried to hide it with a smile. He was like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, since Derek had told him not to get involved.

“D-Derek, heyyy…” he gave a strained laugh. “How uh… how long have you been there?”. Derek’s stare was unwavering and he saw Stiles try and swallow his agitation. “What you doing here?”.

He stood from where he had been sitting and saw Stiles flinch considerably and step back. That was the thing about Stiles. Once you have his attention, he is zeroed in on everything going on. Which meant he could pick up that Derek wasn’t here to chat. Derek’s wolf heard Stiles’s heartbeat speed up, the way an animal does as adrenaline builds up before they run. Derek silently pleaded that Stiles wouldn’t try. They both knew it couldn’t end well.

But he did anyway.

He made a dash to the door, but Derek closed it before he could even reach the handle. Derek stood between Stiles and the door, now stalking closer to the teen. Stiles backed up like a cornered animal, putting his hand out as if to reason with Derek who was avoiding the look of fear in the human’s eyes.

“Hey man, l-let’s talk this out okay? Keep communication open, right?” Stiles was stalling, Derek could see his eyes flit around the room for some way to escape. He growled in response, frustrated that he was making it harder than it needed to be. Suddenly a baseball bat came flying at Derek’s face, but he stopped the blow with ease before it even had the chance to hit his cheek bones.

With his free hand he promptly shoved Stiles’s chest backwards, leaving him to fall onto his bed. His arms flailed as he reached the sheets, now trying to back away, but it was useless. Derek climbed onto the bed to tackle the squirming teen who was beginning to throw punches. Stiles was scrawny, but he did happen to get a hit in about twice. It was clear that the blows hurt Stiles more than they hurt Derek.

Stiles was begging for him to stop until he was breathless from the tussle. As the ferocity continued, Derek could feel his claws begin to emerge and his teeth sharpen as his eyes turned red. It was natural when confronted with a fight, but even with holding back there was only so much that he could control about his appearance. The more he began to change, the harder Stiles tried to fight.

In the end, Derek was straddling the long legged teen and had gotten hold of his skinny wrists with one clawed hand. He pinned Stiles’s hands to his chest to lessen his squirming and he could feel the vibrations of his heavy breathing. Derek looked down at the human, water rimmed his eyes and fear emanated off him like a furnace. Derek still chose to ignore the begging, reminding himself of why he had to do this.

Just when Stiles was starting to wind down, Derek’s other hand went to the hem of his cotton green shirt and slowly pulled it up to reveal his bare torso. This made him wriggle even more. He screamed, shouted, and pleaded for Derek to stop.

The words fell on deaf ears as Derek tried to calculate where to bite. The teen was all skin and bones and it would be terribly painful to bite over those. It was too risky to bite near the fleshy part of his lower neck and shoulder, so that mainly left his side below the ribs. Derek lowered himself and traced the skin with his tongue where he planned to sink his teeth into.

“No,no,no,no,no…” A strained whine escaped Stiles’s throat at the touch. Derek only did it to take away the uncertainty of where on his body the pain will come from, but it seemed to make things worse. Derek sucked on the pale flesh and grazed his teeth over without breaking the skin yet.

He was being more gentle and careful than he ever did with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. He simply just found where he would place it and just shifted so he could bite down and get it over with. But they had wanted the bite and held still.

Stiles instead was struggling to get any air through hyperventilating. Derek’s lips were still on his skin as he found the easiest place to bite down. Just as he was tightening his jaw, he heard Stiles say four words that froze him in his tracks.

“I won’t forgive you.” he spoke with utter calm his breath no longer frantic. It was only when Derek stopped that he let down his walls to sense the teen’s emotions. A cold chill ran over Derek when he realized the most prominent feeling in the air. It was beyond fear that had shifted into raw, unadulterated terror. “If you do it, I will never forgive you.” Stiles nearly whispered the mantra again.

Derek foresaw that Stiles may hate him for a while, but would inevitably let go of that anger over time. Or perhaps once it was done, Stiles would see the benefits of being the wolf more than what being human was like. But Derek wasn’t sure that he would be able to go on where Stiles would never forgive him and forever hold contempt and anger towards. It was something he never wanted to picture.

He realized then that he had made a terrible mistake.

Derek unlatched his mouth from the teen’s side, seeing that a bruise had already begun to form. He released Stiles’s hands and eased up from pinning him so brutally. The skinny kid had slipped out from underneath the wolf and backed against the headboard of the bed with his legs pulled in tightly to his chest. Tears streaked his cheeks, and his clothes were terribly disheveled, his stomach still slightly exposed in his position. The teen was tall and thin like a bean pole, but in this form he looked like a small child.

And Derek was the cause for Stiles’s current condition.

He was no better than the dark entities that haunted Beacon Hills, using his powers for personal gain. Derek realized he wasn’t going to bite Stiles for his own good, he was doing it because he was so desperate to be selfish that he would take away someone’s free will.

With the realization, he carefully removed himself from the bed and backed toward the window slowly as to not make Stiles any more afraid than what he already was. Derek could feel guilt crawling around him, threatening to tear him apart right in the messy room of a teenage boy.

“Stiles I-...” Derek’s voice sounded lower than intended. “I’m sorry.” with that he snuck out the window and climbed down the house to retreat back to the woods. Before he completely immersed himself in the forest, he tuned in to hear the near silent sound of crying and Derek could smell the scent of tears falling. With one look at his own hands that had shifted into razor claws that had a drop of blood on them, he was more aware of his fangs that were fully extended to cut through skin with ease. To Stiles he must have looked like a complete monster.

“What have I done…”

  



	2. Chapter 2

Stiles shakingly brought a mug of coffee to his lips, his bandaged knuckles were sore from simply holding the handle. Sitting at the table alone in the empty house gave him terrifying silence to aid his overworked mind. No one was there to hear him… to stop…

No one was there to pull off Derek from crushing Stiles into the bed while he tried to force the bite. His dad wasn’t home to hear him scream for his help, and Scott was god knows where doing whatever it is he does now days...

Stiles didn’t even have the chance to run.

The second cup off coffee had given him the jitters, he had been awake since Derek left. He didn’t want to fall back asleep. It was still early, but it he decided he could begin to get ready for school. He would rather stay in his room all day, but his dad had been calling his teachers to make sure he was in class while the sheriff was away.

Stiles got the shower burning hot while he took his clothes off. It was a mistake to look in the mirror. His side showed two purple crescent marks, where Derek’s fangs nearly pierced the skin. It was ugly and sensitive. He took off the bandages to not get them wet and he could see the full extent of the damage. His wrists and knuckles were bruised by the brutal manhandling and the futile punches he threw. Stiles shook his head. He was sure that the werewolf didn’t realize his own strength, but Stiles didn’t quite feel like he was in an empathizing mood.

Why.

The word itself could be explained as “reason” or “purpose”, and it has lodged itself into Stiles’s mind for as long as he could remember.

“Why” was a question that he asked as a curious child so that he could better understand the reasoning behind things. It was playful and innocent. Then, his mother died. The question became what had Stiles done to deserve the tragedy of his mother’s loss? The word morphed into the form of anxiety, and plagued Stiles’s mind on sleepless nights.

And then Scott was bitten. The answer to that was simple and straightforward, it was all Stiles’s fault. He dragged his best friend into the woods to go looking for a body and instead his friend was turned into a werewolf. The universe just didn’t want to give Stiles a break because then it brought a certain muscled out sourwolf onto his radar.

Stiles didn’t know why Derek Hale went out of his way to scare the shit out of him or why his heart raced the second the werewolf entered the room.

Freaking werewolves man.

Stiles tried to convince himself that they are no more than entitled assholes that think they’re oh-so-superior to the rest of the human race. Sure they have some rad skills like lie detecting with super speed and healing but they are still part… animal.

It’s not like he had never thought about what it would be like to not have to be the punching bag of their pack, but for some reason Stiles felt a certain pride about being the only non-magic user. He contributed to their ragtag family with his internet obsession, and also comedic relief in his own way. His mouth had gotten him out of many dangerous situations, whether to get away or stall long enough for someone to come get him.

In the past few months, his knight in shining armor had begrudgingly been Derek. The muscled, moody and brooding werewolf had his back more than Scott did.  Fricken Scott was too busy being lover boy to realize the friend he was ignoring. In all honesty, Stiles did feel a pang of jealousy that Scott had ditched him, and when they did hang out all he talked about was Allison.

But whatever.

Scott’s absence left a space in Stiles’s life that Derek began to ease his way into without him knowing it. As if the alpha wasn’t intimidating enough, he had taken even more of a liking to reprimanding him whenever Derek had to fish him out of the frying pan. Whether he was pushed against walls or grabbed by his jacket to be pulled close to Derek’s red eyes and snarling lips. Stiles ignored it for the most part, writing it up to be just Derek being angsty.

Until, well… the fact that Derek kissed him.

The asshole was going on and on about how Stiles wasn’t careful enough, and blah blah blah… by that point he had zoned out on the words Derek had repeated before. Stiles was just one hundred and two percent done with that bullshit. And then a look flashed across the werewolf’s gorgeously chiseled features. It was a look that meant Derek was going to do something very stupid, so Stiles was prepared for a punch to the face and he thought of the bruises it would leave for the next day.

He was more shocked by the lips on his own rather than a punch to his cheek.

Stiles thought back to the tender moment- well, as tender as a moment you can get with Derek Hale- and with dread realized that was the beginning of the end.

Stiles felt… betrayed.

As much as Derek freaked him out, Stiles had still trusted him. Their relationship had been rocky from the beginning, both of them very apprehensive of the other but in lack of sappier words, it grew into something more dynamic and complex. Derek still treated him like child and didn’t hesitate to rough him up with empty threats, but he was also obscenely in tune to when Stiles was in danger. Anything that ever laid their hands on the teen met an untimely run in with lady death. Derek’s hands would hold Stiles a moment too long to be considered platonic when he looked over the teen’s wounds and to his surprise, Stiles would let him.

But after those same hands pinned him down with such ferocity, Stiles wasn’t quite sure if he trusted the werewolf anymore.

School was near unbearable. Stiles was jittery and on edge which annoyed his peers more than usual because of the abnormal amount of pencil tapping he did. He had waited for Scott in the morning by his locker until the first bell rang. As expected, the guy was a no show. It was probably best he didn’t see Scott anyway. What would he even say?

_Hey Scott, turns out a certain sourwolf is officially a sociopath who doesn’t know what no means. Also, forgot to mention this, but said sourwolf also happens to be my crush, or at least was._

He avoided the pack at school, he didn’t want to deal with any of what their senses would pick up. He didn’t want to _explain_ why he was on edge. It was their alpha’s fault anyway. By the end of the day, he jumped at the sound of his name being called.

 “Stiles?”

He looked to see that it was Scott with a look of confusion and concern.

“Stiles, are you okay?” his tone dropped low and secretive. “You smell kind of like...” Stiles didn’t know what to say back. His initial reaction to that sort of question was always to crack a joke about invasion of privacy. He couldn’t bring himself to do that now. Stiles took a moment to swallow the building lump in his throat, but managed to host a smile that he knew wouldn’t fool Scott.

“Yeah man, just a bit of a rough night. I mean, who knew doing research was dangerous? A uh… book fell on my hand and kind of banged it up a bit. So that wasn’t a good time. And to top it off, you won’t believe this, clumsy me scraped the back of my wrist on like a letter opener or something.” he hoped his rambling would distract from his heartbeat. Scott just waited for him to finish, a suspicious pause hung in the air.

“A book hit your hand bad enough to bruise?”

“It was a heavy book.”

“Since when do your have a letter opener in your room?”

“I’ve got to open all the hand written love confessions of my admirers.” okay, that one was a stupid excuse. Scott’s gaze still didn’t waver, and Stiles couldn’t take the silence. “Oh, right the smell. Uhm… yeah Derek just stopped by to, you know, see what I’ve found on our current spooks going on.”.

Please… Scott please just drop it. He thought the shower and heavier cologne was enough to hide the scent Derek probably left on him. The second pause ended with the suspicion in Scott’s eyes melting into a playful and casual smile.

“Are you busy tonight? Because I have been dying to play some Call of Duty. would you be interested in staying over?”

Stiles blinked at the offer, taken aback by the swift invitation. The idea of doing something as mundane as playing video games seemed… calming.

“Sure, I don’t have any plans.” Stiles gingerly put his backpack on his shoulder and closed his locker. “I think you mean you’re dying to have your butt kicked by my mind blowing skills on our video game.”.

They stopped at their favorite fast food place to grab the curly fries before they headed back to Scott’s place. Stiles chose to temporarily table his frustrations with Scott putting off their friendship so that he could have some distractions from his own mind. Ms. McCall had a night shift, so the teens had the whole house to shout at the screen.

The night was nostalgic to simpler times before all the supernatural stuff started happening. Stiles felt the most relaxed he had been in a long time, stuffing his face with potato chips and hearing the tv speakers echo with video game dialogue on repeat was immensely therapeutic to his overactive mind. But as the night grew on Stiles began to shiver.

“Dude, is Santa around the corner because it feels like we’re at the North Pole.” Stiles’s teeth chattered while making the sarcastic quip.

“Oh, really? Shoot I didn’t even notice.” Scott’s voice raised a little higher than normal and it was the tone of his lying voice. Stiles used to call it his “Fibbing Falsetto”. Scott paused the game and got up to move from the living room. “I think the thermometer has been sketchy lately. I’ll go get you a blanket.”.

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure why his friend would be lying about the temperature being weird, but for whatever reason he was eager to go get a blanket. Scott returned with the familiar fluffy gray blanket that was always on his bed. Literally the softest thing Stiles had ever touched. He arched his eyebrow as Scott tossed it to him.

“It was the only clean blanket I had! I can let you shiver if you don’t want it.”

“No, no, I’m not complaining.” Stiles stood and wrapped himself up like a fuzzy burrito then sat back down to resume their video game mission. The blanket reeked like Scott, but Stiles wasn’t going to say something in fear of it being taken away. It was a refreshing night, Stiles had been the one to fall asleep first and was not plagued with the insomnia he expected. The night was simple. It was plain. No supernatural studying. No talk of threatening alphas. Just a boring Friday night avoiding problems that can be dealt with the next day.

It was the break the Stiles needed.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got another chapter in the making, we'll see where the story goes! This was supposed to be a one-shot, but nothing I ever make turns out to be that, lol

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple ideas to continue, but for now it is a one shot.


End file.
